


Sweet Music

by Demmora



Category: Dishonored, Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Frottage, Hand porn, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Romance, Scars, Smut, Strip Tease, Stripping, amongst other things, corvo has nice hands, fic request, hints of switching and dom play, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-04-28 20:45:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5105150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demmora/pseuds/Demmora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jessamine has a mild fixation with Corvo's hands. Okay not so mild...more of a fetish really. So when she discovers him in the music room where his hands don't belong things take an interesting turn.</p><p>This is purely smut, don't expect any plot, any plot that happens is purely accidental.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Heart Strings

_He has nice hands…_

It’s an absurd little thought, but it’s one Jessamine can’t quite shake. She can’t place when she’d first noticed it either, but she knows when it became a fixation. It had been well over a year ago when the dressmaker had been in her apartments, fitting her for a new gown for the Fugue Feast. Corvo had entered, and without thinking she’d offered him a swatch of fine Serkonan silk to examine. Corvo had accepted it, but not before methodically pulling his gloves off—one long and dexterous finger pried free at a time—running tanned and calloused fingers over it, the flimsy fabric like water in his hands.

Jessamine had seen pornography before— Delilah had shown her a collection of post cards she’d found in the servants quarters. Some of them had been quite graphic. But they’d all paled in comparison to the heat that had run through her at that moment, cheeks flushed and mouth dry, all with one small but devastating realization. _Corvo has nice hands_. And it was positively going to _ruin_ her.

She’d had a dress cut from that same silk, and worn it on the night of the Fugue with a heady abandon, reveling in the way it clung to her skin as she danced, imagining how his hands might feel through the fabric, inching it up, bit by bit…The fact that he never would had caused a bitter ache of something cold she could not name to lodge in her chest, and she’d ripped the damn thing to shreds the following day. After all, the Fugue was all about purging oneself of illicit desires. But it hadn’t made her feel any better.

The drawing room door opened, jolting her from her reverie, and Jessamine felt a guilty flush rush to her cheeks as Corvo entered, eyes searching the room before landing on her, expression relaxing slightly as it always did when he found her safe. He’s so devoted to her well being it makes the most pious Overseer look like a heretic.

She’s almost relieved when Lord Kairn, her father’s Protector, draws Corvo over with a gesture. She’s not certain her mouth could form appropriate words at the moment. Especially when he starts pulling his gloves off, tucking them away under his belt, bare hands exposed and clasped neatly behind his back.

They must be rough, she decides, a riddle of notches and calluses from handling swords and other weapons all his life. They’re big hands too, strong looking, with long slender fingers that flicker expressively when he talks—a Serkonan habit, she has been told

Delilah teases her endlessly about it, smirking into her ear— _you know what they say about men with big hands_. Jessamine hadn’t, and it had taken very real effort not to let her eyes wander at that very moment. But she’d managed. Just. It didn’t help that Delilah kept insisting he looked like a pirate—one of the rakes from the smutty romance novels she insisted on reading aloud with gleeful abandon. Where most Dunwall men wore their hair short and trimmed, Corvo wore his long, pulled neatly back into a respectable tie. Combined with his swarthy good looks and a rakish if rare smile, Jessamine was forced to agree. And yet he was never anything other than dutiful around them, quizzical sometimes of their giggling, but otherwise politely detached—the perfect guard. But it’d be oh so easy to imagine him as anything else from the way he moves, with a hint of a swagger that lends itself to the seemingly effortless grace with which he fights, moving almost like a dancer partnered with death.

Jessamine knows that morbid thought should make her uncomfortable, but much like her fixation with his hands, she finds it inappropriately appealing.  She’d watched him train countless times, spying on him from the parapets with Delilah at her side. But she’d also seen him fight for survival, _her_ survival, and his efficient ruthlessness as he disarmed, incapacitated and where he could do neither, tearing through her would be assailants like a whirlwind, had been as thrilling as it was terrifying to witness. But also… _safe_ …she’d felt safe in that moment, knowing that the same hands that gently lifted her down from the carriage, could deliver such exacting punishment when needed. She knew certain members of the court disapproved that she’d picked a _foreigner_ to be her Protector, but Jessamine would have no one else after that, and took every opportunity to order him to her side. He was her Lord Protector after all, he belonged there.

_And he has such **nice** hands._

“Highness.”

Jessamine jumped, aware that the object of her fixations had moved and was standing in front of her, carefully poised in a half bow, hand on the hilt of his sword to keep it from tangling with his great coat.

“Corvo.” She smiled, hoping he would mistake the flush on her face for the heat of the fire.

“Is there anything you require?”

Jessamine’s eyes flickered to the clock above the mantle, it was still early, but she knew he’d be seeing to the changing of the guard soon. “No, Corvo, thank you.” She nodded politely, averting her gaze back to the book which remained open but unread in her lap. “You may go.”

Corvo bowed again, both to her and her father, then about turned, nodding to Kairn as he went, exiting the room in a series of quick, purposeful strides. He hadn’t even looked back at her.

 _And why would he_ , demanded the sneering little voice in the back of her head that somehow always sounded like Delilah when her humor turned cruel. _Why would he ever look back._

“I think I’ll go to bed.” Jessamine announced, snapping her book shut and smiling more cheerfully than she felt.

Her father, engaged in a game of chess with Kairn, looked up to her, the clock, then back again. “It’s not even eight yet, child. Are you well? You look flushed, shall I send for Sokolov? Kairn would you—“

“No!” Jessamine interjected, holding a placating hand up to keep the Senior Lord Protector from rising, “No, I’m fine really. The fire is just a little hot and I am tired.” As an afterthought she added, “And I’m not a child, father. I’m twenty next month.”

Her father and Kairn shared a look, the gruff old Morley man chuckling under his breath as he moved a pawn across the table.

“Jessamine,” her father smiled, a thin but warm expression, “You could grow to be a hundred, and were I still alive I’d still call you child. You’ll understand when you have one of your own.”

“Well when that time comes,” Jessamine told him blithely, leaning in to claim a kiss from his cheek, “You can tell me you told me so. Good night, father. My Lord Kairn.”

“Princess.” 

Stepping out of the well-lit drawing room, Jessamine couldn’t help but notice how cold the hallway was by comparison, the candles guttered in the gusting Dunwall wind that not even the palace walls could keep out. It would be full on winter soon, and Jessamine made a mental note to inform the house stewards to start lighting all the fireplaces sooner rather than later. Particularly those in the servant quarters, which she’d learned from Corvo were always the last to be lit. He noticed things like that, small things that when you stopped to consider them were actually not so small at all. She liked that about him. It was, she felt, the sign of a good man. And he made her better by virtue of proxy.

A sound just on the edge of hearing made her step falter, and Jessamine found herself walking back several paces, ear pressed cautiously to the door of the music room before pushing it open.

“You can play the harp.” The words sounded more like an accusation than she’d intended, and she winced when Corvo jumped back, as though burned by the delicate strings. Softening her voice she tried again. “You never told me you could play the harp.”

“Princess,” he inclined his head, raising a bare hand to his forelock and bowing deeply from the waist in what she knows to be a Serkonan gesture of respect. He must truly be feeling guilty, she realizes, to have fallen back on such an old habit. She’d found it greatly amusing as a teenager, and been somewhat dismayed when the less courtly mannerisms of Dunwall had replaced his ornate gesture with curt, clipped shows of respect. It had made him like some old fashioned knight, chivalrous gestures lost to the brusque cynical mannerisms of her father’s court, where honor was traded for gold, and gossip and intrigue were more valuable than coin in turn. And still Corvo stood at her side, eyes dancing as though he laughed at them all, bowing and sweeping his way through all of them, prowling like a cat among swaggering mice. And he was blushing.

 It was almost too much to bear.

“Oh for goodness sake,” Jessamine laughed, unable to help herself, “straighten up. You’re not in trouble.”

Corvo moved fluidly, righting himself with effortless grace, but his ears still burned red, and Jessamine saw his jaw was working. She tried not to fixate on the bob of his throat when he swallowed, the hard line of his jaw and the squaring of his shoulders making her feel significantly smaller in his presence. The thought of just how small she would be pressed up against that lean frame made heat bloom in the pit of her stomach.

Despite her better judgement, Jessamine stepped closer.

“I was checking the windows before handing over to the night guard, and…” the words trailed off and Corvo gave her a sheepish grin. For all that he might be so utterly graceful and deadly with a weapon, he looked for all the world like a school boy caught with his fingers in the cookie jar.

“When did you learn to play the harp?” Jessamine asked, trying to maintain eye contact, and not let her gaze wander to other parts of his body. She was close enough to feel the heat of him now. His usual smell of leather and boot polish mingling with the salt tang of the evening air, lingering about him as though he’d been out on the parapets. He likely had, she realized. Corvo was exceedingly thorough in ensuring her safety each and every night.

To her surprise Corvo looked away, turning his gaze to the fireplace which roared despite the supposed emptiness of the room. Somewhat belatedly she realized, it was the fireplace that joined on to her bedroom, and she wondered just how often he came in here.

“My mother,” he said thickly, clearing his throat and flicking sad eyes back to Jessamine. “My mother and father would sit and sing together while she played. Piano mostly. Sometimes the lute. After my father died she sold almost everything to keep the house, but she kept her smaller instruments, played them in the streets to earn extra coin. She was very good at it.”

It was strange to her him talk about these things openly. Jessamine had tried for years to get him to talk more, to tell her stories about growing up in Karnaca. But Corvo had never given her more than the bare minimum, just enough to be polite, without offering any more than he had to. She’d thought at the time it was just part of his mysterious charm, the strong silent type that he was. It had never occurred to her it might be because it caused him pain.

“And she taught you to play?” she asked stupidly, wanting to fill the silence between them.

Corvo nodded, and Jessamine almost fell over when he raised his hands, palms upwards, large fingers slightly curled as he inspected them.

“She said I had the hands for it, but now I am not so sure.”

“Oh I don’t know about that,” Jessamine said, trying to sound bright and airy but coming off rather more breathless. “You’ve certainly got the uh, the length, I mean, the dexterity for…plucking…”

Her head was on fire. Any minute how a maid would come running in with a bucket of sand and dump it over her head to smother the smoke surely rising from her cheeks. It didn’t help the way Corvo was looking at her, his smile twisting wryly as though he were about to ask her if she were all right or needed to sit down.

“Here, give me your hand.” Jessamine said, surprising them both by reaching out with both hands to grasp his much larger one. “I want to read your fortune.”

“You can do that?” he asked, sounding quizzically polite. “I thought only witches and heretics knew how to do that.”

“It’s just a game,” Jessamine dismissed with a laugh. “Delilah and I do it all the time. Usually she just tells me I’m going to be Empress.”

“All right,” Corvo conceded, clearly humoring her as though she were twelve years old again and she’d just asked to ride on his shoulders to better see the crowds. He’d been remarkably patient with her, in hindsight. Still was. “What does my palm tell you?”

Lifting a shaking finger to trace the lines of his hand, Jessamine swallowed and let the sensation of touching him seep into her bones. They’d ever touched without gloves before, at least not at an age where it had mattered to Jessamine. And she doubted he’d ever thought of her as anything other than a nuisance. He’d certainly told her often enough. Not even Delilah was as straightforward with her as Corvo was.

“Ah, yes, see here?” she began, creating wildly, “This is your lifeline, you’re going to lead a long adventurous life. Although I’m not sure what that scar means. It might mean you’re going to live on a pirate ship.”

“It means look out for walls with spikes at the top.” Corvo chuckled, a deep wonderful rumble in his chest that seemed to vibrate down Jessamine’s spine. He was so close she could feel his breath on her neck.

Following the outline of his palm, Jessamine continued trailing her fingertip up the full length of his palm, from base to fingertip, feeling her breath hitch when the digits twitched as though she’d tickled him. They really were the hands of a musician, long and thin but exceedingly strong, the knuckles smooth save for his little finger which looked as though it had been broken and poorly reset.

“Do not steal from the sweetmeat stall,” he offered up unbidden, “Merchants don’t take kindly to it.”

Jessamine cast him a wry look which he returned with a guilty little shrug, still smiling. Clearly her Lord Protector hadn’t always been so law abiding. Mentally she assigned _thief_ next to _musician._

“What about this one?” she asked, lingering over another deep pock mark, the skin turned white but still angry and red in other places, the skin bunched up in a hard knot.

“Find a physic before the wound turns septic,” he replied tone still light and airy, as though they were discussing the weather and not the healed over gouge marks in his own flesh. “Or it will never quite heal and ache on cold nights.”

Fascinated Jessamine applied light pressure to the mark, feeling the knotted scar tissue under her own smooth skin. She looked up to see if it registered, then flushed instantly when she realized his eyes were locked on her face, dark and heated.

“And this one?” she croaked, letting her fingers do the exploring as her eyes remained locked with his.

“A thief who didn’t wish to be caught.”

“Did it hurt?” Jessamine asked, finally breaking eye contact and swallowing hard.

“Not as much as the burn beside it.” He replied, and Jessamine shuddered at the sound of his voice cutting through her, concentrating on the faded blister he’d brought up and letting her cold fingers press against it as though she could sooth a burn from years long gone.

“What about this one?” she asked, breathlessly, eyes fixing on a mark just beneath his thumb, running down to his wrist. It looked fresh, the telltale bruising of sutures still ripe against his olive skin, the mark raised and pink as shiny new flesh mended together, mingling with the white scars of old.

“Defending my princess.”

She stilled instantly at the warm pressure of his palm cupping her neck, his rough thumb gently caressing just beneath her ear and sending shock waves of delight down to her core. Almost instantly her trembling returned and Corvo carried on with his simple soothing gesture, as though she were shaking from pain and not desire, and he were not the cause.

 _My princess, my, **mine** —_just as she always though possessively of _him_ whenever silly noble women at parties giggled behind their fans or serving girls flirted openly whenever they thought Jessamine couldn’t hear.

“You didn’t tell me you were hurt.” The words came out small and distant, as though she were hearing herself from very far away.

Or perhaps it was simply that she couldn’t hear anything else over the pounding of blood rushing through her ears. His hand about her neck shifted until his knuckles were gently caressing the side of her neck, thumb trailing warmly down to the hollow of her throat, hard fingers unfurling to gently stroke the tender junction between shoulder and neck. It should be impossible for him to handle her so gently. She’d once watched him grab a blade with his gloved hand and throw the man down as though he were nothing. It should be impossible to feel this safe with that same hand around her neck.

“It didn’t matter.”

“It does matter,” Jessamine replied, eyes that had drifted shut in bliss snapping open to find his head dipped so close she could taste his breath on her tongue. “It matters to me.”

Before she could stop herself, Jessamine lifted his palm to her mouth, kissing the offending mark, eyes fluttering closed at the strangled sound Corvo made deep in the back of his throat. Giving in to some other more base instinct, she let her tongue dart out, running the length of the scar to wrist and eliciting a near snarl from Corvo whose other hand had drifted to the back of her neck, fingers snaring through her hair to create a strange mixture of pleasure and pain that left her moaning into his palm.

He tasted like salt, as though she had cupped her hands into the ocean and drunk deeply from its depths. She vaguely remembered you could go mad from doing so, and wondered if the same could be said of lust.

“If I’d known how much it mattered I’d have told you when I split my lip.” Corvo murmured, voice strangled with an odd mixture of need and humor which made Jessamine giggle, turning her face to nuzzle into his palm, reveling in the sensation as he obligingly cupped her cheek, gently turning her head back until she was looking up at him. “But we can’t do this.”

The pleasant thrum that had been building in her bones died as though she’d been doused with ice water. Jessamine blinked, hoping the hurt on her face wasn’t as visible as it felt.

“Why ever not?”

“I am your retainer, your Protector.” He said, gaze dropping from hers to stare at the carpeted floor beneath his boots, though she noticed he did not pull his hand from hers, or release her hair from his gasp. “It would be dishonorable to you.”

When he looked back up at her she gasped at the sad longing held within his eyes, the way they roved over her face as though he were trying to memorize her, as though he’d never see her again. And in that moment, she knew, Jessamine knew that no matter what, Corvo would have always remained beside her, even if she married and filled the royal cradle with another man’s offspring, Corvo would always be there, protecting her, honoring her, not out of duty—but for love.

“Oh Corvo,” she breathed, “What could ever be dishonorable about love?”

When he did not pull away or make to move, Jessamine took the initiative, raising the hand she still held in her own, to place it flat against her chest where she knew he would feel her heart beating wildly against her ribcage. Reflexively he tried to pull away, fingers curling ever so slightly as they pushed against the softness of her chest. But Jessamine held fast.

“There is no one else I would rather trust my heart to, than you.”  She breathed out, standing up on tiptoe and leaning into him, her lips pressing gently against his jaw, feeling him shiver at the touch, his left hand hitching in the fabric of her shirt just as the other unwound itself from her hair to cup her face, forcing her to look up. “Corvo…”

It was a clumsy, crushing kiss, but Jessamine melted into it, releasing her grip on his hand to wrap her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her height, unable to stop the moan that escaped her throat when she felt his tongue dart out over lips—testing and teasing, but also hesitant, as though he feared he might be pushing too hard.

She’d kissed other men before, women too, there were plenty of young suitors thrown toward her by ambitious families every day in court. But they were mere pecks compared to this, and Jessamine opened up willingly, feeling his tongue slip between her lips, sending tendrils of heat down to the pit of her belly, making her toes curl in her boots. Experimentally she let her own tongue slide along his, encouraged by the soft moan he made in return, the sound turning into a yelp of surprise when she bit down on his bottom lip. He pulled back in a daze, looking down at her questioningly.

“Put your hands around my waist,” Jessamine instructed, leaning up to kiss the crooked grin that was spreading over his handsome face.

“Yes, highness.”

The words caused an unexpected thrill, and Jessamine felt a bolt of heat lance from her stomach down her legs making her weak at the knees. It was a phrase he’d said a thousand times, but never before with such heat.

“Am I being bossy?” she teased, swaying up into him, relying on the broadness of his shoulders to keep her upright as his hands traveled down her back, trailing fire in their wake as they came to rest around her waist, firm and secure. She gasped when his fingers dug into the gaps between her stays, thumbs stroking her sides in a deliberately ticklish gesture which made her squirm.

“When are you not?” Corvo replied, pressing his answering grin to her lips and sucking the indignant reply out of her mouth, along with every coherent thought she’d ever had.

This time it was Jessamine who yelped when she felt herself being lifted from the ground, Corvo apparently no longer content to stoop, hoisting her up to his height. She wasn’t that much shorter than him, but it was enough to make her feel off balance. So Jessamine did the only thing she thought reasonable and used his shoulders to brace herself as she pulled her legs up around his waist. It was more than a little bit satisfying to feel him sway, her steady calm Lord Protector reduced to groaning helplessly into her mouth, shivering as she dragged her nails through his unruly hair.

She moaned in protest when Corvo pulled back, contenting herself with kissing the line of his jaw as he panted heavily into the hollow of her neck.

“The night guard,” he said, in a low urgent murmur and Jessamine froze mid kiss, pulling back to look down at him. Even when she was all but boneless with desire, Corvo was still able to think rationally. “Even if I don’t hand over they’ll start checking the rooms soon.”

 “Do you need to go now?”

Corvo simply nodded, seemingly at a loss for words. She was glad to see he was as flushed and fevered looking as she felt, his eyes somewhat glazed as though it were taking every ounce of his self-control not to push her up against the nearest wall and ravish her senseless. The thought made her ache.

“Well then,” Jessamine pouted, unlocking her legs and sliding down his front, his fingers snagging in her clothing, trailing up her body as she went. Her breath hitched in her chest at the feel of his hardened length against her thigh, still partially hidden by his uniform which only looked a little worse for wear. “You’d better do it quickly then, my Lord.”

She was pleased, so over joyously pleased when he groaned again, the look on his face near pitiful with want. Jessamine smiled.

“Because the sooner you go,” she continued on in the same low breathless tone, experimentally grinding her hips into his and marveling at the way his jaw dropped in a silent gasp, lips parted as he panted like she’d never seen him do, not even when training in the yard until his shirt clung to him with sweat, “the sooner you can come up to my quarters and we can finish our… _discussion._ ”

It was bold, she knew that. Jessamine knew the sensible thing to do now would be to part and let the heat subside and come back to each other in the light of day with cooler heads. But the very thought of spending another tortured night alone, one hand between her thighs and another against her mouth to keep the servants from hearing—the thought of Corvo moving above her—was too much. They’d find her in the morning, nothing but a pile of ashes between white sheets, burned up from want and desire. The thought of him doing the same, those long fingers curled around himself, stroking and working himself towards relief with her name on his lips filled her mind and Jessamine almost moaned out loud, turning it into a throaty laugh when he still didn’t reply.

“Unless you want some time alone to mull things over by yourself…”

The look he gave her was hard, and at any other time she might have mistaken him for being annoyed with her if he wasn’t already kissing her, lips fierce and demanding, tongue pushing into her mouth with none of the previous hesitancy of before. His fingers curled through her hair again, pulling tightly and eliciting a whimper as her head was tilted up, pressing her into the merciless kiss. That small injured noise seemed to snap something in him, some last shred of resolve giving way, and Jessamine found herself abruptly pressed against the nearest wall with Corvo flush against her. It was impossible not to squirm against him when his thigh slipped between her legs.

Abruptly Corvo pulled back, and Jessamine all but whined, wantonly rubbing up against him, desperate to maintain the delicious friction which he had been so obliging to provide. Vaguely she became aware that his hands were on either side of her head, boxing her in, and although he still looked ready to give in and could no longer hide his own trembling, the grin he gave her was darkly salacious and all too knowing.

“I don’t know, what do you think I should do?” His voice which had always sounded like rich smoke and honey to her ears had dropped to a velvet purr, a slight hint of his native tongue coloring his words. “It’s certainly a lot to think about, would her _highness_ like some time alone?”

He punctuated his point by pressing his thigh hard against the cleft of her legs. The heat in her belly turned to molten desire, overflowing and burning her up, the ache between her thighs unbearable. She’d never felt wetter, and he hadn’t even touched her, not really. Not in the ways she imagined on those long cold Dunwall nights, where frost patterned her windows and Jessamine lay sweating beneath the covers, fingers curling inside herself, imaging those long hard callused hands holding her down, sliding over her sex and working inside of her until her hips quivered, unable to reach the sweet spot she knew needed to be stroked, working herself over and over into a state of frenzy but never truly sated.

The touch of his thumb on her lower lip brought her back into the moment, and Jessamine realized she was all but keening, lost in her own thoughts and working herself against the steady pressure of him against her.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Corvo rumbled deep in his chest, face near stricken with need for whatever he saw in her at that very moment. His eyes were blown open, swallowed by the heat of desire, fluttering shut with a groan when Jessamine parted her lips and ran her tongue along the tip of his thumb.

“Shouldn’t you be reporting in somewhere?” she asked, managing to find the breath to tease him, slipping her lips over the digit and eliciting a pained groan in response.

“I don’t think I can walk.” Corvo confessed, chuckling breathlessly against her neck as he leant against her.

“In that case we’re going to be found in a puddle on the floor by the night guards and possibly the maids,” Jessamine replied, laughing despite herself. “What a scandal.”

“You don’t have far to go.” Corvo countered, nuzzling up to the top of her head, nose buried in her hair as he breathed in deeply. “Your bed is on the other side of that wall.”

“You’re right.” Jessamine replied, nuzzling against his neck in return and feeling a day’s worth of stubble burn her skin. He smelt even better than she’d ever realized, so much more than just leather and polish but a deep earthy musk, mingled with clean sweat and whatever spiced soap he used to shave with. It was delightfully intoxicating.

“I could crawl on my hands and knees if I had to,” she carried on giggling at the way his breath hitched, brain clearly skittering off in wild directions as he made an injured sound, hips grinding a little helplessly against her. “Or, someone could get a hold of themselves and carry me.” She arched her eyebrows at him, voice light with mock innocence. “We could say I twisted my ankle.”

He muttered something incomprehensible, and then pulled away, leaving her bereft for his presence. Automatically she reached out for him again.

“No,” he replied sternly, catching her fingers and raising them to his lips for a chaste kiss. “I really, _really,_ have to go report in or they will come looking. Go…go to your room, I’ll meet you there after the guard change.”

“But they lock the upper floors of the tower,“ Jessamine began to protest, pushing off from the wall and letting herself by lead by his hands as he tried to retreat for the door. “And you might be seen—“

Seemingly unable to resist Corvo stepped back into her arms again, claiming her lips with a kiss that made them both groan.

“Leave your balcony open.”

“What? No, that’s…no! It’s night time and its four stories up!”

“So?” Corvo challenged, eyebrow raising as he grinned cockily at her disbelief. “You say that like I don’t know this place blindfolded. There are eight different ways I can make it to your balcony from the outside. Nine if I had a grapple hook. And this way no one will see me where I don’t belong.”

Jessamine’s protest left her throat in a little croak before her brain caught up with her mouth and focused on the important bit rather than fixating on the word _blindfolded_. “You’ve practiced getting up into my balcony before? At night time?”

He gave a little shrug, his expression set in the one he always used whenever he thought she was being obstinate about a security detail he would not relent on. Of course he knew how to get up to her balcony at night time. He was her Lord Protector, it was his job to think of all the sneaky ways in which someone might try to reach her. He’d probably hidden a bear trap in the roses.

She also had to admit there was a certain charm to the idea, the idea of him sweeping in over the balcony like a rogue, rather than the two of them slinking off in the hopes of not being noticed—like teenagers trying to hide from a chaperone. A thought apparently not lost on him either as he grinned rakishly, pulling her fingers up to his lips again and making her gasp as he placed his mouth to the inside of her wrist.

“One hour,” he promised, eyes dancing with a fire she’d only ever imagined in her most private hours, “One hour, and then I’m yours.”

Unable to speak past her need, Jessamine nodded, swaying weakly as he pulled back and left her alone in the music room, the following silence obscene in its heaviness.

She stood stock still for a few moments, then bolted for the door.


	2. Amorous Overtures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is no plot, only smut. Enjoy!

It took every ounce of Corvo’s failing self-restraint not to run through the corridors of the Dunwall Tower and hurl his keys into the hands of the nearest officer, but somehow he managed a steady pace. He nodded to the guards on patrol as he passed—all too aware of his disheveled appearance.

His hair was an unruly mess, dragged free of its tie by Jessamine’s roaming hands. He’d lost a coat button somewhere too, likely snared on an ornate busk of her corset. He could only hope he didn’t have rouge around his mouth, though in truth he found it hard to care. He found it hard to care about anything with the ghost of her nails tingling pleasantly against his scalp, the scent of her perfume on his clothes.

Lieutenant Curnow did raise an eyebrow at him when he stepped into the office, spectacularly late and no doubt looking like he’d lost a backwards fight with a hedge in high winds. But the other man didn’t say anything, simply accepting his keys for the night shift and inclining his head respectfully, politely oblivious to the obvious.

 _Love,_ she’d said she’d _loved_ him—or close enough. It was enough to make him feel light headed, giddy even. In fact Corvo still wasn’t certain he hadn’t slipped somewhere and hit his head and was lying at the foot of a staircase in a fevered dream. Only the remnant heat in his veins and the memory of her pressed flush against him—the unbearable sweetness with which she’d uttered his name when she’d leant up to kiss him—was enough to convince him otherwise. No dream could possibly ever be so sweet. And Corvo should know. He’d dreamt of it a thousand times.

He wasn’t quite sure when he’d first realized that he’d loved Jessamine, only that by the time he had, it had been too late to do anything about it. Lust and desire had been easier to deal with, dismissed as baser instincts, a personal failing on his part he could only try to suppress or indulge in weaker moments. But there was little he could do about his love for her. The feeling had crept up on him, settling into his bones, a heavy weight carried within him at all times, as equally comforting as it was terrifying.

Delilah—the common girl who had somehow managed to worm her way into the royal household—had often teased him about it in private. There had been one night at a Fugue ball, where the tall dark haired woman had sought him out in the crowd, coming to stand beside him as Corvo watched Jessamine spinning past on the arm of some nobleman he couldn’t remember the name of but hated anyway.

“Dangerous, is he?” she’d teased, leaning in to rest a hand on his arm, “you’re glaring hard enough to make his head explode…”

He’d tried after that, to compose his features, willing himself to something like stone, for his heart to either break or still—anything to stop the irrational agony clawing inside his chest. The surge of triumph he’d felt when Jessamine had turned to signal him over with a subtle twist of her fingers—using his appearance as a means to excuse herself from the other man’s company—had been petty and entirely unjustified. But also deeply satisfying. Even more so the way she’d leant on him as he escorted her back to her apartments, the feel of her slight frame beside him burning through his coat until he was convinced her hand would leave a mark on the crook of his elbow in the same way her smile had marked his soul.

He’d clung to that memory for years, replaying it over and over in his mind, entertaining a thousand different ways the night could have ended…the fantasies of a starving man, aching for something he dare not name or ever hope to enjoy.

 _And she’d kissed him_.

His lower lip throbbed where her teeth had nipped him, the sensation leaving him hot and half hard. He grinned to himself, inclining his head politely to one of the maids who danced around him in the corridor, continuing to thumb the abused flesh and enjoying the shivery ache it elicited in his bones. He’d need to repay the favor, subtly of course. No one would look twice if he turned up with a split lip, but Jessamine was another matter.

Back in his quarters he pulled off his coat, pulling on a fresh undershirt and taking the time to change his gloves and boots for soft Serkonan leather ones. His Dunwall issued boots could kick through walls and were nigh on waterproof, but they were useless at allowing him to sneak properly or for feeling his way when it became too dark to see. He did pull his coat back on however. He might have been living in Dunwall for the better part of almost a decade, but that didn’t make the winters any more bearable.

Unlatching his window, Corvo stepped out and dropped the short distance down to the narrow ledge that ran the full length of the palace walls.  The night air was cold and damp, as was to be expected, but it did little to hinder his progress as he stepped easily along the narrow stonework, footing as sure as though he walked on solid ground. He’d climbed much higher and narrower peaks back on Serkonos, first running with the gangs, bare feet scrambling over loose tiles and rocky inclines, and then later on as part of the Guard. Usually with someone shooting at him.

By comparison the stone walls and iron railings on Dunwall architecture posed little difficulty. He’d made a point in fact, of scaling the Palace walls on a regular basis upon his arrival, just to see if he could and also to ascertain any potential weaknesses. Kairn had called it a waste of time, stating that the only person liable to manage such a feat was Corvo himself. Corvo had disagreed and taken measures, measures which he now stepped lively to avoid, dancing over trip wires—and in one instance, a spring trap he’d completely forgotten about and only narrowly avoided losing his toes to.

The tower bell tolled the hour just as he rounded the final corner, goal in sight. He was just about to leap over the small gap between balconies—rather than continue to skirt the side of the building—when the balcony doors opened and Jessamine stepped out.

It was fortunate that there had been something to hold onto, otherwise he might well have dropped off the edge when his knees turned to jelly. Using a handy drain pipe to regain his footing, Corvo let his eyes roam over the woman he loved.

Dressed in a plain white nightgown that covered her from throat to toe, she was a vision of ethereal perfection in the night, her dark hair let down to curl around her shoulders, face luminous even in the fog shrouded light of the moon. Corvo had never been much for faith or religion, but he knew what reverence felt like, and in that moment he wanted nothing more than to drop down before the altar of her beauty and worship.

“You’ll catch your death in that thing out here,” he said, surprised he could talk at all with all the blood in his body rushing elsewhere in a hurry.

Jessamine jumped at the sound of his voice from the shadows, peering out into the darkness to try and see him.

“Corvo, where are you—“ she squeaked with surprise when the shadows moved at speed, the sound of feet leaving the ground, a brief sound through the air, and then his hands were on the iron baluster of the balcony, followed by the rest of him as Corvo pulled himself up and over, sweeping her up into his arms in one fluid movement.

“By the Outsider you are _beautiful.”_ He murmured, eyes roaming hungrily over her from beneath windswept hair, the fading light casting his handsome features into shadow.

She’d imagined so many things in the last hour, toyed with the idea of being coy, witty and flirtatious. But all those thoughts vanished, melted away the heat of him and the safety of his arms. Reaching up with hands that trembled ever so slightly she pushed his hair from his face, fingers trailing the outline of a faint scar on his jawline that she’d never noticed before, a little sigh escaping her lips when he turned to press a kiss to the inside of her palm.

“You’re here.”

“I said I would be,” Corvo replied, lips curling into a teasing smile as his hands slid down her back to rest on the curve of her hips, “Did her highness doubt it?”

“Only the method,” Jessamine admitted, glancing over the side of the balcony to the unfathomable drop below. How she could have ever doubted him was beyond her now. Jessamine fully suspected he’d walk through the Void to find her if he had to.

Turning her attention back to him, Jessamine found herself unable to keep her hands from playing with his hair. It was wavy, she realized, the dark tendrils fluffing up and coiling under the onslaught of the mist. How had she never known his hair was curly? How had she never noticed how crooked and handsome his smile was? How had she ever survived this long without the smell of him on her skin, the taste of him on her breath?

The kiss when it came this time was soft and sweet, lingering with an unbearable tenderness with none of he hurried frenzy of before. The soft moan that had begun to build in her chest turned into a squeal of surprise when Corvo moved, sweeping his arms under her and hoisting her up, cradled against his chest.

“You’re freezing,” he informed her, voice dark and husky, but still laced with concern as he carried her back inside.

“Better warm me up then,” Jessamine replied, surprised at how clever and coy it sounded when all she felt was desperately breathless. His heart was a deep comforting boom in her ear, arms locked around his neck, legs dangling over his arms. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to be held like this by him.

She’d expected to be carried to her bedroom, hoped in fact, but it was the couch in front of the fire he lowered her down onto, ducking out from under her arms and retreating to close the open door, shutting out the cold Dunwall night.

The sound of a lock clicking should not have been erotic, but there was a way to how he turned, leaning back against the door and gazing at her over the short distance like he wanted the devour her that made Jessamine’s heart thud straight down to pulse between her legs. Smiling as a thought occurred to her, Jessamine rolled onto her side, propping herself up by the elbow and stretching out to show off the full length of her legs, emphasizing the curve of her hips and reaching up to gently tug open the front of her chemise, glowing with pleasure when his breath audibly caught, eyes roaming hungrily.

“Take off your coat.” It came out far bolder than she felt, and Jessamine fervently hoped he mistook her embarrassed blush for confident ardor. He’d seemed to like it earlier when she’d been bossy with him—he certainly hadn’t objected. And besides, he was wearing far too many clothes for Jessamine’s liking.

She watched as her words had the desired effect, Corvo’s breath stilling before returning raggedly, eyes glittering hard with arousal. The grin spreading over his face was almost feral, and Jessamine felt an intense spike of heat lance through her body when he tore a glove free with his teeth, his other hand working to undo his coat buttons.

“As you wish.”

“Good,” Jessamine approved, voice little more than a thin croak as she watched those hands make short work of brass buttons and hidden fastenings, Corvo shrugging out of the coat in what she suspected was meant to be an agonizingly slow display for her benefit. She couldn’t help but bite her lip at the sight of his shoulders rolling, admiring the way his body tapered perfectly down to narrow hips, all long legs and lithe physique kept hidden under that ridiculous great coat. Some small part of her that was still semi-coherent made a mental note to have something better made for him, something slimmer and less bulky.

When the coat finally dropped to the floor, abandoned beside the gloves, Corvo rocked slightly forward on the balls of his feet, then back, coming to what she could only describe as a ready attention, hands clasped neatly behind his back, feet apart. The smile he was giving her was sly now, head tilted to the side in a manner that seemed to say _well,_ **you** _started this game,_ and Jessamine tried to think of what should come off next. Waistcoat and shirt? Boots? Everything? Well if he wanted to be a tease then two could certainly play that game.

Allowing her eyes to roam over him, Jessamine caught her bottom lip between her teeth, fingers ghosting over the fabric of her thin nightgown, the material shifting to reveal a pale expanse of thigh as her other hand trailed down her neck to caress over her breasts, just enough to make her nipples perk. The sound Corvo made in response was _very_ rewarding, and Jessamine couldn't help the giggle that welled up in her chest. Dropping her gaze to the floor for the satisfaction of dragging it back up him from boots to head and watching him squirm,  Jessamine watched as he took a little faltering step toward her, hands twitching to his sides.

"Boots," she reminded him, arching her head back to expose her neck and giggling again when she heard him swear, crooking her head to the side in order to watch him from beneath her lashes as he kicked out of his shoes and socks with uncharacteristic haste. "Hmmm, roll up your sleeves," Jessamine hummed her approval, simply content to watch as Corvo, growing ever redder, complied with her wishes. He had nice arms too she realized, all of him was nice, but there was just something about the sight of him with his shirt sleeves rolled up and the way his hands were flexing that made her tingle all over. Without even thinking about it, she slid a hand between her thighs and squeezed her legs together, whimpering softly at the small merciful burst of pleasure it caused, eyes fixed on Corvo who all but swayed forwards.

"Waistcoat." Jessamine prompted him, pressing her hand down harder and arching in response to the sensation and eliciting an almost injured sound from her Lord Protector, who seemed to be having trouble with a few pressing issues of his own. Well, _one_ at least. It took him a moment to respond, and Jessamine noticed the way his hands strayed to the front of his trousers first where his growing erection was tenting the fabric, before fumbling to undo the buttons of his waistcoat. _That_ she decided she liked, the neat cut of the fabric emphasized his physique perfectly. Perhaps she could commission him something more formal however, something with lots of straps and buckles he could work to undo at her leisure.

"Gods I've dreamed of this." He said, voice thick with need but also tinged with something that sounded sweetly like awe.

"Have you?" Jessamine teased, shifting from her side onto her back and reveling in the sound of his desire once more. "Did you touch yourself too?"

The sound of him drawing in breath sharply made her look up, arching an eyebrow at him. He looked near stricken with desire, hands straying to his front, but jerking away again. After all, she hadn't told him to take off his trousers. Yet. 

"Because I've dreamed about you. You've no idea how many times I've come whispering your name, imagining you over me and moving inside of me."

She didn't even have time to finish speaking before he pounced, crossing the distance between them in the blink of an eye, his weight bearing her down into the couch and claiming her mouth in a crushing kiss. The position felt awkward however, so Jessamine shifted beneath him, legs parting to either side of his waist and Corvo slid neatly against her hips, as though he'd been made to fit there. When he rocked into her they both moaned, a deep and guttural sound that filled the room, obscenely loud and deliciously toe curling. Finally parting, dizzied and out of breath, Jessamine found herself clinging to his shoulders when he tried to pull back farther.

"I know it's cold in this rain forsaken city of yours," he teased, brushing his nose against hers and planting a quick kiss to her eager mouth, "but unless you plan to make love like a Tyvian in an igloo I need to take more clothes off."

"Fine," Jessamine pouted as she let go of him, earning herself a deep chuckle and another kiss in reply.

The pout was replaced by dumbfounded lust when Corvo sat up and began unbuttoning his shirt, painfully slow in Jessamine's opinion. She'd dreamt of this, and fantasized about it in her waking moments, but nothing could compare to the sight of him kneeling bare-chested above her, all sharp angles and hardened muscle, gleaming in the firelight.

 _You're gorgeous_ , was what she meant to say, but instead what came out was "Hgnl."

Still towering over her, Corvo quirked an amused eyebrow at her. "Is that approval? Ah—!"

He shifted back when Jessamine sat up quickly, her hands reaching out to caress over taught muscle, fingers hooking into the belt loops of his trousers, pulling him forward. Acting purely on instinct she pressed a wet, sucking kiss just above his navel, and was rewarded with a toe curling moan, his hips bucking forward in response. She'd never thought she could be so bold with a man, certain things were not expected of a crown princess, but Corvo had awakened in her a ravenous hunger that demanded to be sated. She'd read about things like this— in the smutty novels she pretended to Delilah she didn't read—and it gave her a satisfying glow to know that even though she might be younger and less experienced, she was still doing all the right things, satisfied that her touch was able to bring him pleasure.

"I've dreamed about this too," she informed him lightly, hands sliding down to brace his hips, letting her tongue dart out and tasting his skin, humming with pleasure when she felt the shudder run through him. "I've dreamed so many things."

"My gods, stop talking." he breathed out, sounding a little lost and like he'd been running a marathon. "I won't last if you keep talking like that."

Jessamine simply grinned. She was enjoying her power over him, almost as much as she enjoyed the physical sensations of being touched by him. There was something electrifying about it, the way they fed off each other, pushing and pulling the other, like stoking a fire until the poker was too hot to handle.

"But you make the sweetest sounds when I do," she informed him, widening her eyes in faux innocence and pressing her mouth just below his navel, laughing deep in her throat when his head fell back and swore, something in another language from the sound of it. She was just about to reach for the button of his trousers when his hand caught both of hers, lifting them over her head.

 _Helpless_ was the only word that did the sensation justice, utterly _helpless_. And it made hot electric zings of pleasure ripple all the way down to her toes. When she looked up it was to find Corvo gazing sternly down at her.

“Did I say you could do that?”

“N-no?” Jessamine stammered. There was amusement in his voice, but it was lost to the wild hammering in her chest. He’d already shown his willingness to tease and play with her, but the thought of him ordering her just as she had him was almost unbearably erotic.

 _Please ask me to get up and strip_ , _please tell me what to do, tell me, order me, hold my hands down..._

The last thought was almost too much and Jessamine shuddered, her stomach tied in delightful knots. When she looked up at him against it was to find him watching her in rapt fascination. Clearly he’d meant the gesture to be nothing more than playful, but Jessamine couldn’t help herself. She glanced up to where his hands still held both her wrists, and Corvo followed her gaze. If she’d thought he’d felt hard before, it was nothing compared to what she could feel pressing against her thighs now as he gently pushed her back down, keeping her hands above her head.

“Do you care about this silly thing?” he asked, tone oddly detached as he trailed fingers over the silky fabric of her nightgown.

Momentarily unable to speak, Jessamine shook her head, then watched transfixed as Corvo worked his fingers between the tiny buttons.

“Good.”

It tore with a satisfying sound, buttons scattering and bouncing over the floor as the ruined fabric pulled away to reveal her heaving chest, laying her out bare beneath him.

“Do you want me to keep holding you down?” he asked, voice hitching this time, even as his other hand moved tenderly over her flesh, trailing delicate lines between her breasts and tickling down her ribcage to play with the band of her underwear, the think silk all that remained of her modesty.

“Yes,” Jessamine managed to breathe, then added with a lick of her lips, “please.”

“If you need me to stop, say so. You will say so, won’t you?”

He sounded so suddenly serious that Jessamine stilled. He looked…not nervous, not quite. But something close. She smiled warmly at him, arching as though simply stretching, exposing more of her nakedness to his roaming gaze. “Yes, Corvo.”

Corvo made a little humming sound of approval, fingers tracing out an intricate design over her belly, seemingly content to take his time now that he had her pinned. The sensation was ticklish and Jessamine couldn’t help squirming, pulling instinctively at her hands and relishing how futile it felt against his strength. It made her wetter than she’d ever been, and her breath left her with a shiver. It didn’t help that he was smiling, clearly amused by her predicament. To add insult to torment, he shifted his weight again, coming to rest over her thighs and pinning her legs together, denying her any opportunity to find a way to grind against him.

“Corvo,” she protested, his name drawn out on her lips as she arched up beneath him.

“So bossy,” he admonished, leaning over to claim another kiss.

“I thought you liked that,” Jessamine retorted, voice catching in her throat as he moved to kiss down her neck, his other hand gliding up her torso to palm her breasts, teasing one nipple and then the other until they were peaked and painfully sensitive to his touch.

“I do,” Corvo replied, teeth grazing over her skin as he kissed lower and lower, drawing a hardened nipple into his mouth and sucking Jessamine arched beneath him with a little cry, helplessly pleading for more. “But by the Outsider’s eyes you’re beautiful when you beg.”

The very words, the deep breathless growl with which they were spoken and his continued ministrations to her trembling body while he simply watched with darkened eyes, was almost enough to tip Jessamine over the edge. She could feel the familiar hear coiling in her belly, aching at her core, though certain parts of her still remained painfully neglected. She emphasized this by heaving her hips as hard as she could, squirming her legs together in the vain hope of gaining some small relief.

“Corvo, please,” she gasped, turning pleading eyes up to him, “I need you, please.”

“Hmm, soon.” He replied again in that pleasant throaty hum that vibrated through her bones, even as she threw her head back in frustration and heaved at the hands holding her wrists again.

She stilled at the sudden feel of his fingertips trailing lightly over the damp silk of her underwear, taunting and teasing in its briefness.

“Want to know what else I’ve dreamt of?” he asked, voice low and sweet as he gazed at her with hooded gleaming eyes that danced mischievously at her from under unruly hair. He was still holding her arms, but the position was awkward given how low down he was. He was all but on his knees on the floor but he still maintained the stretch to keep her hands pinned. Jessamine's stomach flipped over when she realized what was about to happen, hips already rising in anticipation as his free hand pushed her knees open and Corvo's head dipped between her thighs, mouthing over her through the thin fabric and making her jolt with pleasure.

" _Oh_ —!"

It was warm and so very good in a way Jessamine had never felt before. She was only vaguely aware of his hand releasing her arms, but the feeling of both hands lifting her legs over his shoulders as he moaned into her made Jessamine throw her head back in a silent cry, fingers digging into the fabric of the couch. When he pulled aside her underwear and let his warm wet tongue slide over her slick folds, Jessamine bucked up wildly, "Oh gods,  _Corvo! Please, please don't stop!"_

And by the Outsider, laughter had never felt so good either. That deep rumbling chuckle, so salacious and so full of satisfaction vibrating through her as he found the sensitive nub between her folds, and Jessamine all but pushed them both off the couch when he began sucking, his skillful tongue matched by deft and clever fingers that were dipping in and out of her warmth, stroking and teasing until it was too much to bear.

When she came it was hard, fingers snared in the curls of his hair, whimpering and keening his name as the throbbing wave of pleasure crested over her, leaving her breathless and ragged in its wake. Consumed by the afterglow she was only vaguely aware of him settling his head against her thigh, arms wrapped tight around her torso as he pressed lazy kisses to wherever he could reach. Coming back to herself Jessamine began to giggle. 

"What?" he asked, breath hot against the inside of her thigh, turning into her caress when her fingers began to play with his hair. He all but purred when she used her nails against his scalp.

"I was just thinking," Jessamine replied, still breathless, "Your dreams might be better than mine."

"Oh I doubt that," Corvo said with feeling, untangling himself to rise up and crawl his way over her, pointedly grinding his still clothed erection into her sex and eliciting a startled moan from Jessamine who felt herself grow warm with desire again. Instinctively she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him nearer and shamelessly grinding against him. His head dropped down with a little gasp, and Jessamine pulled him down further, licking and sucking hungrily at his mouth, drawing the breath out into a deep, guttural moan.

"Shall we go to bed?"  Jessamine murmured, lightly raking her nails over his scalp again and feeling him quiver at the touch. "Or we can stay right here if you'd like, though there might be more room on the floor in front of the fire."

Letting his head drop to her shoulder with a muffled mutter, Corvo tensed momentarily, and Jessamine found herself suddenly gripping him tightly with arms and legs as he flexed, pushing upright from the couch and pulling her with him.

"Bed," he said fervently as he began walking towards her bedroom with long purposeful strides. "Most definitely the bed."

"Hmm," Jessamine hummed with pleasure, pressing her nakedness closer to his bare chest, dropping her head to kiss and suck at his neck, fingers and nails raking through his hair again. 

"As my Lord wishes." she murmured, biting at his earlobe and making Corvo gasp, giggling when he staggered to the side, forced to press a hand against the wall for support.

"Better not drop me." she teased, her giggling turned into an indignant squawk when Corvo hoisted her up over his shoulder with a growl, stalking his way towards her bedroom door. She squirmed indignantly, then yelped when the flat of Corvo’s hand struck her bare backside.

“Behave,” he admonished, and Jessamine stilled, still coming to terms with the fact that she’d just been spanked and enjoyed it.

“Yes, Corvo.” She said meekly, shivering at the sound of his laughter deep in her bones.

“That’s my girl.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took so long to go up! I got crazy sick in the last few weeks and brain no work good. Part 3 will be up much sooner!

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for any mistakes, I don't have a beta reader at the moment. Hopefully there's not too many ^^;


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